Camelia dangled her legs over the side of the lab table, gazing idly in the direction of the unconscious Medley. She knew she shouldn't daydream when Medley's chances of waking increased by the minute, but it was so boring waiting for the Doctor to finish reading.
Braden shuffled nervously, arms folded across his chest. "You mean we really can't take the computer anywhere else?"
"No! . . . Sorry, but computers on-planet are fixed." She sighed.
"Who are you? Both of you, I mean. Who is it you're working for?"
"No one, it's just us." She realized that might not be the most comforting thing to hear. "I'm not working with anyone, anyway. He says he's not, but who knows, really?"
Braden gaped. Hm, on second thought, that might have been even less comforting. "How long have you worked with him?"
"Ahhh . . ." She wanted to lie and she wanted to be truthful, but most of all she wanted to avoid another of Braden's panics. ". . . Well, long enough to know he just points himself at trouble and shoots. And he has a lot of experience handling dangerous situations." This was of course speculation, but she doubted anyone could blame her for coming to such a conclusion.
"Where is he from? Hecate or Aurora?"
"Ahhh . . . Hecate, I think."
"How do you know?"
She started to say something and stopped. How did she know? She met him on the shuttle leaving the space station for Aurora, and he hadn't appeared to know anything about keys or rhixis. None of that was proof, though.
She remembered how he'd behaved with Braden. He didn't seem any less estranged from the Hecatian than from her. And then there was something else . . .
"Braden," she said suddenly, "You said you learned about this job offer at a seminar?"
"Well, through various things."
"Did the speaker have to explain what rhixis was to you?"
"No, of course not. We're not thick."
She glanced up at him. ". . . So you do know what rhixis is. You, and everyone else on Hecate, I mean."
"Well, by and large."
"You don't suppose there are any countries on Hecate where word just doesn't get round, do you?"
"Sure, maybe."
"Speaking our language, though?"
"Seems unlikely. What are you getting at?"
She looked back down at the unconscious nurse. "Nothing." Nothing indeed. Someone had some explaining to do.
Bang! bang! bang! She was jolted out of her thought by a hard rap at the front entrance. "Open up! Security!"
Camelia jumped to her feet and drew out her pistol. "Doctor!"
"I heard them, just give me a second!" he shouted from the office.
"You." She pointed to Braden. "Is there another way out?"
"Huh? What?" His eyes were wide and confused. "How should I know?"
"Look for one."
He nodded—and didn't move.
". . . Now!"
He jolted and ran back through the laboratory; Camelia knew he wasn't the greatest choice of scout, but she had a feeling he'd make an even worse soldier. Meanwhile she grabbed a spanner, wedged it through the door handle to stall the newcomers, and tried to remember if the door was a push or a pull. There was no way to lock it if they had clearance to come in. All she could do was stand against the wall with her weapon drawn and wait for either the Doctor to come out of the office or security to burst through the door.
There was a soft beep as the door unlocked. Someone pulled at it from the outside, but with the spanner stretched across the door frame they couldn't move it more than a few centimeters. The door began to shake violently as they grew more and more frustrated, then stopped. They must have another plan for getting in, she thought.
The Doctor ran out of the office. "Alright, I've got it—put that away!"
She sent him a pointed look and tilted her head in the direction of the door indicatively. Was he insane?!
"If that's security then they'll have real weapons, not little blue pistols! And if you fire on them what's to stop them shooting back?!"
She groaned as she put it away. "Fine. What do you propose we do, then?"
He didn't answer. "Where's Braden?" he asked, heading back into the lab. Camelia jogged after him.
"I told him to find a way out!"
"There's no way out, our best bet is to hide and wait for them to walk past, then make our escape."
"And what if they leave a guard by the door?"
"Then!—just!—I'm just trying to come up with ideas, alright?" he sputtered.
"Okay . . . they're just bad ideas," she muttered under her breath.
"Braden!" cried the Doctor as the Hecatian turned up from behind a corner. "Find anything?"
"No! What do we do?"
"We hide, we wait for them to walk past, we creep back to the exit and we shoot any guards we find there," said Camelia firmly.
"We stun any guards we find there," the Doctor corrected.
"Of course."
"Better hurry, then."
Sparks flew as the sergeant cut steadily through the door with the blowtorch, Captain Warsaw and six other men waiting behind him with rifles in hand. At last he finished an outline around the handle. "Clear."
"Good," said Warsaw. "Let us in."
The sergeant thrust the butt of his weapon into the outlined area and sent it flying free of the door into the inside of the room. Through the hole where it had been they could see a spanner lying inside the door handle. The sergeant wedged his rifle into the hole and used it as leverage to open the door.
"Alright, Grif and Simmons, you stand guard."
"Yes, sir."
"The rest of you, search the place. Bring me whoever you find."
The rest of the team filed into the room, rifles cocked, the captain taking up the rear. He noticed the door to the office was open and stepped inside.
Wow. He'd never actually been inside the lab before; the computer was ancient. He peered at the screen.
Behind his back, about fifteen feet away, a panel in the ceiling shifted. Then, just as quietly, it lifted out of view. A pair of socks appeared in its place, descending—inch by inch—into the reception room. Camelia's face and arms appeared last of all, till she could be lowered no further. She gave a quick nod, dropped to the floor like a cat, and reached up to receive Braden's ankles as he likewise was lowered.
Warsaw doubted the computer had been left on by Medley, especially with the login up. He searched for recently opened folders.
His eyes widened. There it was, the project file, at the top of the list. He stood to his feet and turned around.
He heard something heavy fall to the floor. He left the office and found Grif and Simmons flat on their backs in the outer hall.
"Alright, everyone, they've escaped!" he shouted. "Dufresne, stay behind and try to revive Grif and Simmons! The rest of you, with me!"
His shout traveled up the stairs, where three figures had been quietly tip-toeing up the concrete steps. All at once they broke into a run. Heavy footfalls echoed behind them.
The Doctor slammed himself into the door of the first floor. "No, no, no, they'll be expecting that!" Camelia yelled, then winked as she put a finger to her lips and shooed them through. Braden looked a bit confused, but they managed to get him through the door before the soldiers appeared and the door closed behind them as they scampered out into the light of the corridor.
"Why did she do that?" gasped Braden
"Diversion!" she said breathlessly. "Make them think we're going upstairs!"
"Did it work?"
"I dunno, would you like me to check?! . . . Oh, excuse me!" she yelled at a doctor who stared after them as they ran. She slowed to a jog so she could keep talking: "Hey, did-you-know-you've-got-a-secret-floor-with-illegal-experimentation-and-now-someone's-private-army-is-after-us-to-shut-us-up-okay-gotta-run!" She took off with a fresh burst of speed to catch up to the Doctor and Braden. The soldiers had just appeared in the hallway and she was seriously starting to regret slowing down.
"STOP!" they ordered.
She didn't waste her breath on a retort. Her lungs were burning as it was. When she did speak it would be to ask the Doctor where he thought he was taking them. She was pretty sure he was just making this whole escape up as he went.
They turned a corner, then another. Nurses and doctors cleared a path for them with exclamations of surprise and occasional indignation.
"Sorry, sorry!" the Doctor would shout. "Mercenaries behind us, call the police, please!" Camelia would add.
Braden veered off and ran into an elevator, frantically pushing the "down" button. "No, no, no!" the Doctor cried. When the Hecatian didn't respond he threw his arms round his waist and yanked him away from the doors as they began to open.
And now they were on the floor. Camelia caught up to them in time to help the Doctor drag Braden to his feet. "Sorry Braden, elevators are risky business when your enemy can stop them working."
"Sorry!"
"It's fine, just run!" A blast of energy flew past their heads and knocked over a tray table down the hall. Great, now they're shooting at us, thought Camelia. The Doctor took the next turn, grabbing Braden by the elbow to steer him in the right direction, then stopped abruptly on finding a fork in the road.
"Right!" he said, skidding on his heels. "You go that way, you go that way! Run as fast you can!"
"What about you?" she demanded.
"I'll go that way," he said, giving her a look and nodding towards the remaining corridor.
"Oh. Right." She realized how stupid she must have sounded. "What about after?"
"Just!—Meet me back at the club! Braden, you just get out of the hospital! Now go!"
Camelia took off obediently down the lefthand hallway, then glanced over her shoulder—to see the Doctor going back the way they had come. No, no, no! She banked hard and ran back to the fork. He was supposed to keep running, what was he doing?! Negotiating? Giving them up?
She stopped just before stepping out into the crossroads again, though, spinning her arms to keep from falling off balance into view of whoever lay beyond. What if—crazy idea—he was giving them up? She had a fleeting vision of a vague masterminded plan with the Doctor and his mysterious background at its center. If she had three seconds to think it through rationally she would've seen how idiotic this was, but at the moment she was too busy trying to do too many things at once. And before she had time for anything else, a soldier stepped out from behind the corner and grabbed her by the throat. "Hello."
She tried to reach for her pistol, but he had already grabbed it out of her holster. "That's enough for now," he said, and fired it into her stomach. There was an explosion of pain, and she passed out.
Warsaw spoke into his key. "We have two hostiles in custody. Repeat, we have two hostiles in custody."
"Weren't there only two?" came the reply.
"Negative. Nurse Medley reported only two intruders but we chased three out of the basement. Third hostile is still at large."
"Well, find him!"
"Yes, sir." He nodded to two officers, who proceeded down the hallway at a steady jog. "I've sent Church and Flowers on that. Permission to interrogate hostiles?"
"By all means."
Warsaw turned off the link. "Alright, get them out of here. And Lopez? . . . Go check on Dufresne, he hasn't picked up in a while."
Kreshner was dying to know what was happening downstairs but he didn't dare ask Barkhoff directly. He knew something was up: Medley wasn't responding to his messages and now the chancellor looked like he was preparing to leave.
"Going so soon, sir?" he asked.
"Yes. Afraid so. Someone's just called for an emergency council session and I've gotta dash."
"Oh, really? What for?"
"I don't know, they wouldn't say."
"That's a shame. We just started Grady on a new treatment that looks promising. I was hoping to speed up the process by treating a sample of your blood with the same solution."
Barkhoff hesitated. "Don't you have some of my blood in storage?"
"No, we've gone through all of it with similar tests."
The chancellor thought this through, clearly torn. "Fine," he said at last. "Let's get it over with, quick as possible."
"Thank you." Kreshner went into his office and locked the door. He sat down and called the technician on his key.
"Yes?"
"I need you to take a blood sample from the chancellor. He thinks we're using it to test a potential cure for rhixis."
"He thinks?"
"I just need you to keep him in the hospital that much longer than he wants to be here. Keep me apprised if anything happens. And if he asks where I've gone, tell him I'm attending to some major developments in the cure or whatever gobbledygook you can come up with. He has the medical understanding of a neanderthal, so you should be safe."
"Where are you going, though?"
"Out. I need some air." If Barkhoff needed to leave the hospital, then so did he. If the chancellor thought the authorities were closing in, which was the most likely explanation of all the facts, then it would be wise to get as far away from Ilythia Major as he possibly could, and satisfying to boot if he could keep the chancellor there long enough to get caught.